The Ministry of Angels

92 Pages·2009·0.25 MB·English

by  Mrs Joy Snell

“The angels keep their ancient places”. - THOMPSON.

Our Angels go with us the whole of the way
That we travel to God in our garments of clay,
And their hands are in ours, and our hearts are aglow
With the vision of Him they prefigure below;
Till we pass through the portals of death, and we find
They have compassed our feet from before and behind.
They that stood at the cradle, go down to the grave,
To direct and admonish, to serve and to save;
And when once we have seen them, tho’ only in dream,
Like Columbus of old we shall follow the gleam.
And sail on unafeared o’er an ocean of fate,
Where we come to our own, and the goal they await.
And it is in the light that our Angels shall shed
On the hearth and the home, by the board and the bed,
We shall see them again, in the fullness of life,
That went down to their death in the darkness of strife;
As we rend the illusion of race and of dim*,
Bridge over the chasms of death and of time,
And arise on the paths of progression, and learn
Of the vistas that stretch, of the beacons that burn,
Just beyond the dark portals of death and of sleep
That a dream may illumine, a vision may keep;
And we waken and watch, and we toil and we pray
And we ponder afresh on the Word and the Way.

E. M. HOLDEN
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS

HERE AND BEYOND

by

Mrs. JOY SNELL

with Foreword By
The Late Rev. ARTHUR CHAMBERS
Vicar of Brockenhurst, Hants
“Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy”

First published, April, 1918
Reprinted, August, 1918, February, 1919, October, 1919, 1920, 1925, 1928
Reprinted by The Greater World Association, November, 1950
Reprinted August, 1963
Reprinted July, 1973
FOREWORD
Every believer in the statements of the Bible and in the teaching of our Lord Jesus Christ is
committed to an acknowledgment of the truth, that there is a Ministry of Angels.
Angelic interposition in the affairs of mankind, and, in particular, in the circumstances of
Christ’s life on earth, is so essentially a part of the Christian religion as to be inseparable from it.
But there are many Christians whose grasp of this inspiring truth is very indefinite. They
believe—and would be very upset were anyone to hint that they do not believe—that Angels ma-
nifested at the Birth, Temptation, Transfiguration, Agony, and Resurrection of Jesus; that
Moses and Elijah were seen and heard, on a mountain of Galilee, long after they had passed into
the Arisen Life; and that a “fellow servant” of the aged St. John appeared from out the Other-
Life to him in his exile. (REV. xxii, 8 and 9).
But all this happened a long time ago; and so the professed belief in Angelic Ministration is
viewed as having little or no practical value as far as the experiences of mankind living in the
twentieth century are concerned.
The average church-going, or chapel-going, Christian who sings:
“Angels of Jesus, Angels of Light, Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night!”
looks very incredulously at anyone who testifies that he has seen a messenger from the World of
Spirit.
In regard to such, and to others whose ideas are dim and shadowy, this work will do much good,
I think. It will set some thinking that there may be “more things in heaven and earth than they
had dreamed of in their philosophy”; that in respect to Spiritual Realities the words: “As it was
in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be” have a greater signification than they had hitherto
supposed, and that Angelic Ministry is no less a fact of present-day experiences than it was in
the time when Bible-writers lived.
I think no careful and open-minded reader will peruse this simple and impressively written
narrative of personal experiences without obtaining a fuller idea of the love and concernfulness
of the All-Father God for His creatures here on earth; an extended view of the possibilities of
existence; and a comfort and inspiration, which arises from the knowledge - inborn upon us
from so many sources - that as we pass through the educative and restricted life of the Physical
to the higher and fuller life of the Spiritual, we are not left unattended and unaided; that
whether seen, or unseen, by us now, there are with us those Spiritual Ministers of God who “do
His pleasure”.

ARTHUR CHAMBERS,
(Vicar of Brockenhurst, Hants).

Author of “Our Life after Death”, “Man and the Spiritual World”, “Thoughts of the
Spiritual”, “Problems of the Spiritual”, “Our Self after Death”.
DEDICATED TO
THOSE WHO MOURN
THEIR DEAD
PREFACE
This little book records what a woman has learned of the Ministry of Angels on earth,
and of life in other spheres of existence beyond this world.
It has been written because angels have told her that rare psychic powers have been
bestowed on her, and she has been permitted to see what is hidden from the vast
majority of mankind until after death, that she might tell others something of what has
been revealed to her.
It is now sent forth in the earnest hope that it may be the means of bringing comfort to
some of the millions in many lands who mourn their dead.
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS

I
The first of my many strange experiences, from which I long ago learned
that at times I see things which to most people are invisible, and hear
sounds which to them are inaudible, occurred when I was twelve years old.
With a brother two years older than myself, I was then living with an aunt
in the north of Ireland. My father, a captain in the British army, was
stationed in India.
I awoke one night to find the room filled with light, as though flooded with
sunlight, and pervaded by a delicious odour such as emanates from the
most exquisitely fragrant flowers, but the fragrance was imbued with an
exhilarating quality that is not possessed by any perfume with which I am
acquainted.
I heard a rushing sound, like that which might be made by the beating of
many wings, and suddenly there appeared, standing in the middle of the
room, two forms. One was that of a man, the other that of a woman. They
were clad in shining white robes. Around the head of each was a bright
halo. The man stretched forth his hand and said :
“Be not dismayed; blessed shalt thou be”,
Then the woman spoke and said:
“Behold the Saviour! And I am His mother”.
The face of the man was bearded and his hair was long, falling below the
shoulders; both beard and hair were of a reddish hue. The features closely
resembled those of the traditional portraits of the Saviour. But in most of
them the predominant expression is one of sadness, while the face which
beheld expressed joy far beyond that which I have ever seen depicted on
any human face. And yet there was that about it which proclaimed infinite
compassion.
The face of the woman was of an oval type, very beautiful and aglow with
love and tenderness. It was that which impressed me more than its beauty.
The figures slowly faded from my sight and the room was again dark. I was
possessed by the feeling that the vision foreboded my own speedy death.
For an hour or more I paced the floor with a beating heart, striving vainly to
resign myself to that which I believed was inevitable. Then I became more
composed and returned to my bed, but not to sleep, for I feared that I
should not live to see the light of another day.
For three or four days this fear of impending death haunted me. A very dear
friend, a sweet old Scotch lady whom everybody loved and in whom
everybody confided, noticed that I was looking troubled and asked me what
ailed me. I told her of the vision I had seen and that I was afraid it
portended my death.
“Have no fear, lassie”, she said. “It was not to warn you of your death that
vision was given you. You have what is called the psychic gift, and many
things will be shown you which others cannot see”.
She told me that she had seen many visions, and to her, too, the Saviour
had appeared.
“They are well guided whom God guides”, she said “and you have nothing
to fear. But”, she added, “I would advise you to keep these things to
yourself. Treasure them up as sacred in your own heart, for there are few
who would understand them”.
After this it seemed to me that I was seldom along. I became conscious that
there was with me a loving, seeking ever, it appeared to me, to guide me
aright.
I began to hear strains of music that were not of this earth, but more
glorious far! Often I could hear voices, thousands of them, it seemed to me,
singing songs of praise and blending with the notes of some mighty celestial
organ. At times it would sound loud and clear, as though close at hand, and
then it would gradually diminish in volume, until it was scarcely audible.
And then it would swell again, resonant, jubilant, triumphant. I heard this
heavenly music, for so I always regarded it, at all sorts of times and in all
sorts of places - by day and by night, when alone or with others, in the
house or out of doors. This music I have heard at intervals ever since.
I told my brother and a few friends in whom I could confide without
bringing ridicule upon me, of the wonderful music that I heard, but even
when it sounded loudest and clearest in my ears, none of them could hear
it. It is in the impression it conveys of joyousness that it differs most from
human music. No earthly music that I have ever heard is half so gladsome.
Listening to it, one feels that it expresses a state of happiness, of faith in
divine love that is seldom if ever realized here. And always when I hear this
music it is accompanied by that same exhilarating fragrance that pervaded
the room wherein I beheld my first vision.
Until I was nearly eighteen no other vision came to me. Meanwhile, except
for hearing the glad music of unseen voices and instruments, and the sense
of a protecting presence ever near me, my life was that of most healthy,
high-spirited girls in comfortable circumstances. Very happy I was in those
days. My friends bestowed upon me the nickname of “Cheery”.
I awoke one night out of a sound sleep to find the room filled with light,
although there was no light burning in it, and standing by my bedside was
my dearest girl friend, Maggie. Addressing me by name she said: “I have a
secret to tell you. I know that I am going over to the other world before long
and I want you to be with me at the last and help to comfort my mother
when I am gone”.
Before I had sufficiently recovered from my fear and amazement to make
any response she vanished and the light slowly faded from the room.
I told the dear old Scotch lady what I had seen.
“Trust to the guidance which you will receive”, she said. “If Maggie is to die
in your arms, without your seeking, matters will be so arranged that you
will be with her at the last”.
A week later I was summoned to my friend’s home. I found her suffering
from a feverish cold, but there was nothing in her condition to cause alarm.
She had no presentiment of impending death. And it was obvious to me
that she had no remembrance of the visit she had paid me in her spirit
form. Therein lies a mystery of which I can suggest no explanation. In the
course of my life, I have seen several apparitions of people who were still
living on the earth-plane of existence. To some of them I have spoken, and
some of them have spoken to me; but subsequently I have always found
that they themselves, in the body, had no knowledge or remembrance of
such communications with me.
Maggie’s mother was called away to see a sister living at some distance who
was seriously ill, and she asked me to stay with her daughter while she was
absent. I had been with Maggie only three or four days when, one night, she
was suddenly taken very ill. She expired in my arms before the doctor who
had been summoned could reach her.
It was the first death that I had witnessed. Immediately after her heart had
ceased to beat, I distinctly saw something in appearance like smoke, or
steam as it rises from a kettle in which the water is boiling, ascend from her
body. This emanation rose only a little distance and there resolved itself
into a form like that of my friend who had just died. This form, shadowy at
first, gradually changed until it became well defined and clad in a pearly
white, cloud-like robe, beneath which the outlines of the figure were
distinctly visible. The face was that of my friend but glorified, with no trace
upon it of the spasm of pain which had seized her just before she died.
After I became a professional nurse, a vocation which I followed for some
twenty years, I witnessed scores of deaths. And always, immediately
afterwards, I saw the spirit form, in appearance an etheralized duplicate of
the human form, take shape above the body in which life had become
extinct, and then vanish from my sight.

II
When I was twenty years old my father returned from India, bought a
beautiful little place in Ireland and there settled down. As a child of three I
had parted from him in India, after my mother’s death there. But though
seventeen years had elapsed since I had seen him, it was not as strangers
that we met. He had long been the hero of my girlish dreams, and in him
these dreams were more than realized. Dearly I loved him and that love he
returned in full measure. We were constantly together and we were the best
of friends and companions. My brother, too, was all that a brother could be.
For two years my cup of happiness seemed filled to the brim.
Meanwhile, more acute grew the feeling of someone, unseen, tender, loving,
protecting, ever with me. So close, so real did this presence seem to me at
times that often I fancied I could feel a breath upon my cheek and hear a
whisper at my ear, and I would turn sharply around, fully expecting to see
someone. Then there came a change. I became possessed of a feeling that
something dreadful was going to happen to my father. This oppressive
sense of impending disaster was strongest upon me when I was most keenly
conscious of the presence of my unseen mentor. It seemed to me then that
someone was striving to prepare me for an ordeal which could not be
averted. But my father appeared to be in his usual health and buoyant
spirits. There was nothing apparent to justify my anxiety concerning him.
Some three or four weeks after this dread foreboding had come to me, I was
sitting one night before the open window of my bedroom, inhaling the cool,
exhilarating October air and enjoying the serene majesty of the night.
Suddenly I heard my father’s voice calling me by name and bidding me
come to him. Then I lost all consciousness of my surroundings and a vision
came to me. I saw my father lying in the garden, fully dressed and
seemingly asleep. It was broad daylight. Along the road two friends were
approaching the house. They were Dr.___, our family physician, and his
brother. They were in the habit of dropping in at odd times.
I saw them enter the garden gate and then, apparently catching sight of my
father, run to him. One of them raised his head, and the other, the doctor,
unfastened his collar and necktie and thrust a hand into his breast.
“He has gone”, I heard the doctor say, “He must have passed away without
a moment’s pain. But who will tell his daughter? I cannot!”.
Then the vision vanished and I became aware that I was still sitting at the
open window. I lit a lamp and went to my father’s bedroom, gently opened
the door, and listened. I heard the deep, regular breathing that denotes
sound slumber. I entered the room and walked softly to the bedside. I knelt
there and prayed fervently that my father might be spared to me. But it was
with a heart as heavy as when I entered the room that I left it, so strong was
my conviction that that which I had seen in the vision would soon come to
pass.
I did not return to bed that night, for the dread fear that possessed me had
banished all possibility of sleep; but it was with a smile that I greeted my
father at the breakfast table next morning, for I was resolved that no
shadow of my anxiety and despair should fall upon him. And he was as
cheerful, tender, loving and companionable as he had always been.
He left the house at two o’clock that afternoon for a walk, telling me he
would be back at four to take tea with me. Before going he kissed me
affectionately, as he always did when leaving me, even for a short time; but
I felt that never again on earth should I receive a kiss from those dear lips. I
betook myself to my room to await the blow that I knew was soon to fall.
About half-past three a man-servant came in hastily and asked me if I knew
where “the master” was. A little later the other man-servant asked me the
same question. Then the stableman of a military friend came in, looking